Tortoiseshell
by TheFantabulousPandemonium
Summary: The first time Gilbert had seen him was as a child. By the third time, he stopped calling it coincidence.


The first time Gilbert had seen him was as a child.

He didn't remember much of the incident, to be honest, only that it had been too cold out and the house had been locked. Maybe his father had a meeting that night, or had already gone to sleep.

But he remembered Him.

Remembered the tall figure cloaked in black, hair perfectly in place despite the wind howling around them, peering down at him with curious violet eyes that seemed to say 'you should have died'. The next thing he remembered was the hospital visit when his father found him the next morning. Not much of it, though, only the nameless faces of nurses and doctors and his father's girlfriend Gilbert didn't even like.

The second time was a hallucination, he was sure.

It had been his fifteenth birthday, and he had been riding the brand new skateboard his stepmother had gotten him. He had nailed the trick for the very first time, only to lose his balance and fall into the street. He could have sworn he broke his arm when a truck swerved around him, brakes squealing, and still managed to run over his legs. It had been agonising, they put him on so much pain medication he felt numb.

Useless, even, when his brother wasn't allowed to leave school to come see him. And then He walked in after the visiting hours were over.

Gilbert could not believe his eyes.

Everything was the same - perfectly in place hair, immaculate black cloak though it was the middle of summer, and the same curious, violet eyes piercing through his very being. He stood observing for a moment, before taking a seat in the empty chair next to the cot. The silence hung over them heavily, until Gilbert chuckled.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" His face transformed into a small, amused smile and he gently clasped his hands in his lap.

"Perhaps." With that he rose and turned towards him, eyes taunting, a hand innocently pushing the damp hair back from his forehead. Maybe it was his hormones that made the touch see more caring than it actually was. He disappeared when Gilbert blinked.

By the third time, he stopped calling it coincidence.

It was a little after his twenty-first birthday. He, Antonio, and Francis had gone out drinking, and were hoping to maybe get a little tail. Of course, Antonio had brought his boyfriend, some barely-legal Italian kid he'd been fascinated with for ever, and they'd disappeared a little after they arrived. Francis had found a beautiful, giggly girl on the dance floor and was snogging her in some distant corner, leaving him by himself at the bar.

As always.

It had put a distinctly bitter taste in his mouth, and he resolved to put all the alcohol on Antonio's tab. That made him feel a bit better. It had been his sixth or seventh beer when a voice to his right startled him.

"Planning on dying tonight?"

"Maybe," After getting over his initial surprise, he gave the figure a lopsided grin, gesturing with his free hand. "Not much left I haven't done." He adjusted something on his face, it took Gilbert a second to realise they were glasses, folding his hands on the counter. He looked different with them on, the alcohol notwithstanding, colder and more mature than curious and amused.

"You haven't seen your brother get married." He snorted, smiling bitterly into his beer.

"Fuck Luddy, he hates me anyways." A small chuckle beside him and someone calling his name told him otherwise. When Gilbert turned to deliver a well-deserved 'fuck you' he was no longer there, the seat occupied by a too-close couple who didn't even notice him.

"Gilbert?" The voice was distinctly his brother's and sounded absolutely relieved. "Come on, let's get home."

The fourth had been deliberate - the pills, the careful dosage of cyanide poured lovingly into a cup of cold, bland tea, the gun glinting between his fingers.

"Isn't this a tad selfish?" This time, he had expected the voice and turned to meet it, grinning.

"Does it look like I care?" He looked different, more lean and beautiful and dangerous, glasses nowhere in sight and his cloak billowing softy in nonexistent wind. The colours of his eyes whirled, teasing him with thousands of deaths that sounded far too sweet. A small, mercurial smile stretched his lips for a second, disappearing into the whirlwind that seemed to gather around him. The scent of carrion overpowered the bedroom.

Gilbert struggled to keep his eyes open and lifted the gun with difficulty. A hand swam into his vision, gently lowering the piece of somehow-twisted steel back into his lap, and fingers swept across his forehead followed by a soft press of lips against his temple.

"That won't be necessary, Gilbert." Everything was suddenly clear and He was inches away, peering curiously down at him once again with an amused half-smile. The cloak was gone, replaced with a grey robe of sorts, the hood down and trailing onto the bed behind him. A lantern perched on the edge, emitting a soft yellow glow that framed the other's face against the fading sunlight.

"After every choice I gave you, you chose this?" He chuckled to himself, brushing the hair once again out of Gilbert's eyes. "Silly child. What ever am I going to do with you now?" He didn't know how to respond, only staring up at the figure with wide eyes.

"Well," he started, brushing the robes of nonexistent dirt and picking up the lantern with little difficulty, offering a thin hand towards him. "Shall we?"

* * *

_Quick little AusPru piece, with hints of Tarot because I can._


End file.
